


Caffeine High

by JessicaMDawn



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Birthday Party, Boyband, Celebrity Evan Buckley, Child Star, Dancing and Singing, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Pre-Canon, Pseudonyms, Rich Buck, Singer Evan Buckley, The Buckleys are Bad Parents, pretty canon compliant, supportive firefam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25185274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/pseuds/JessicaMDawn
Summary: Before Buck was Buck, he was Stefan Everhart, member of a boyband called Caffeine High. His career as a celebrity lasted for only five years, and Buck has done his best to put it behind him, but those experiences still bleed into his daily life. It just so happens that there are some Caffeine High fans among the 118.
Relationships: Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Buckley Parents, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Original Male Character(s), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson/Karen Wilson, Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 490





	Caffeine High

**Author's Note:**

> Written from a prompt discussed in the Buddie discord about What if Buck Was in a Boyband as a Teen?
> 
> Written for Krpshere, The Angst King, JESS, toughpaperround, sy, CaptainSif, and Astro.
> 
> Beta'd by DLanaDHZ
> 
> ...
> 
> Songs referenced and used in this fic are:
> 
> [Someone to Hold Me Tonight by Dream Street](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9RSh6LCUFPo)  
> [Gravity by Soul Decision](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mplvRIXFZs).

The notes that came from his lips were shaky, uneven. They wobbled and fell flat. After one particularly long, loud note, Evan's vision spotted black and he had to grab hold of the mic stand in front of him to keep from falling over. He slammed his eyes shut, waiting for the lightheaded dizzy spell to pass.

"You alright in there, Ev?" came the voice of one of the music producers through the recording room's speakers.

He nodded, black hair falling into his face. "I'm—I'm fine."

The dizziness had gone, but Evan kept his eyes shut. He still felt lightheaded, like he was one wrong move from it separating from his body to float into the sky, and the rest of him would fall to the earth without it.

After a short silence, the producer's voice came back. "Let's take a ten-minute break."

Evan's shoulders drooped in relief. If he had been told to re-record that last note again, he knew without a doubt that he would have fainted. With a nod, he removed the headphones from over his ears and stepped out of the studio.

To hear his parents arguing with the producer.

"—too long," his father was saying. "He'll be late for dance lessons!"

"No offense, Mr. Buckley, but I'd rather he push his dance lessons back and get a proper recording than keep going and put out a subpar end product."

"No, you don't understand," Evan's mother cut in. "If we push back dance lessons, then that takes time meant for school. He'll either have to skip school today or miss the talk show with his bandmates, and you know he can't do that."

Evan shuddered, exhaustion weaving its way into his every muscle, just hearing his mom talk about his schedule. He turned and made for the break room, where there would be melon water for his voice and fudgy, protein packed vegan brownies for his body. And a couch. He really really wanted a nap.

If he wasn't in dance lessons, he was in vocal lessons. If he wasn't recording his part of the band's next song, he was in dance practice with the other guys. Or they were hanging out somewhere for group bonding or filming on a show somewhere or in a radio studio. The hangouts were the closest Evan got to 'free time' so he was always more than happy for those outings. They were the only thing that made Evan feel like a normal fifteen-year-old kid.

Maddie was away at college, and was probably really busy herself, but Evan wanted to talk to her. Ask her to talk to their parents about slowing down. Then again, she had talked to them before, when Evan first got told he passed the audition and was now a member of the boy band _Caffeine High_. She had reminded them that Evan was only fourteen, he was still developing, don't push him too hard.

Evan drank a full two cups of melon water before sitting on the couch in the break room and just letting himself breathe. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the artfully boyish style his parents had paid his stylist for that morning.

"Evan!"

Evan jumped, eyes flashing to the door. "Mom!"

She put her hands on her hips and frowned. "Why did you mess up your hair?" she complained. "This break is already making us late. We don't have time to have your hair redone." She sighed and let her head fall back, like she was the one exhausted. "Let's hope the bedhead look is considered fashionable to your fans."

There were two minutes until his break was over. Evan reached forward to grab a brownie, but his mom made a disapproving noise and he stopped.

"Those are for after recording. They're so fudgy they'll hurt your singing otherwise," she reminded him. "Did you drink the melon water?"

Even as she asked, she was pouring him another cup. Evan's "Yes" was ignored in favor of her pushing the new cup into his hands.

"When you're done with that, let's get back in the studio, alright?" his mom said, as if they were singing together. She patted his knee as he dutifully sipped the water. "You make us so proud every day, Evan. Thank you for being so passionate and driven."

Evan liked making his parents proud. It was why he never complained. That and he really did enjoy being part of _Caffeine High_. He loved performing, the screams of the fans, the compliments in interviews, his parents' smiling faces.

So he finished his water, clapped his hands together, and said, "Ok. I'm ready. Let's do this."

…

…

The house the ladder truck stopped in front of was only one story tall, but it was big—wide and long. There was a long walkway up to double doors with decorative panes of frosted glass. Whoever lived there had money.

Almost before Bobby could finish knocking on the door, it was ripped open by a girl of about thirteen. She wore workout clothes, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. And her eyes were wide.

"Thank god. Sarah's over here."

The girl rushed to lead the team through a modern, minimalist living room, down a hallway, and into a home dance studio. Hen whistled. Another girl about thirteen was leaning in the corner of the room, propped up on one side by the glass wall and on the other by a regular wall. Her gaze was unfocused, but when Chim checked, her pupils reacted normally.

"Did she hit her head?" he asked.

"No," the friend said with a shake of the head that moved nearly all of her body. "Her legs gave out, and then she couldn't get up, and then she couldn't sit up on her own anymore." Tears filled her eyes. "Oh my god, is she gonna be okay?"

Chim and Hen continued their examination. With only minor difficulty, they got the girl to answer questions. She felt really dizzy, and she was cold all over—supported by her shivering. She didn't have a dry mouth or a fever. She'd drank half a bottle of water before they started practice.

"Not dehydration," Hen said.

"Caloric deficit?" Chim suggested.

"Sarah, sweety, have you been eating much lately?" Hen asked the girl.

Chim turned to grab his bag but found Buck was already there, holding up the exact fluid bag Chim had been about to reach for. It was prepped and ready to be administered too. Suppressing any comment about being impressed or surprised, Chim just took the needle end from Buck and got Sarah set up while Buck kept the fluid bag held high.

"Her parents have a lot of veggies in these one serving bags for when we get hungry," the friend said when Sarah just shrugged.

Buck let out a huff and handed the fluid bag to Eddie so he could kneel by Sarah's head. "Hey." She turned her dazed eyes in his direction. "Is that all you eat? Vegetables?"

"Dad says I have to maintain my figure, and they're good for me," Sarah explained, sounding tired.

With a shake of his head, Buck said, "Okay, so this is going to sound totally backward to you, and I know that, but trust me okay? Eat more fat." Behind them, the friend gasped. "Not chips and junk food. Avocado, nuts, salmon. Also, carbs."

"But carbs make you fat!" the friend shouted.

Buck glared over his shoulder at her. "She's a dancer, right? Judging by this room, it's not just a hobby. Her body needs the carbs to keep up with all that practice," he snapped, forcefully enough to make the friend back up and shock his coworkers. Then he turned back to Sarah and, softer but still firm, said, "About sixty percent of what you eat needs to be carbs if you're gonna do this professionally, got it?"

Sarah nodded. Even after only a few minutes, she was starting to look better and react more to what was happening around her.

"So…eat a lot of bread?" she asked hesitantly, like she was asking permission to get another dessert or stay up past bedtime.

Buck smiled at her. "Yeah, like bagels and stuff. Brown rice is good too. And potatoes."

Sarah also smiled. "I like potatoes."

"Me too," Buck said. "So, more healthy fats. Like, a fourth of your food should be healthy fats. Carbs. Over half of your food is carbs, got it?" A nod. "How about proteins? Does your family eat meat?"

A shake of the head. "Mom has a medical condition."

"Then I'm sure she's got the non-meat proteins down to a science, huh?" Sarah nodded and Buck grinned. "Good. You'll want lean proteins to help give your muscles strength. So, Sarah, what are you going to eat from now on?"

"One fourth healthy fats. Like avocados. One half bread, rice, and potatoes. Protein," she recited dutifully.

Buck nodded. "Perfect. And if your parents have any issue with it, tell them to find a good dietician."

Something about his tone made Sarah giggle, or maybe it was simply the fact that she was feeling better. Either way, the sound made everyone in the room less anxious. If she could giggle, things were looking up.

It wasn't until they were back at the station that Chim said, "You know, I didn't think your crazy Ironman diet and exercise facts would come in handy on a call, but here we are."

Buck rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh yeah. Who'd've thought?"

With a shake of her head, Hen clapped Buck on the shoulder. "Don't let him tease you, Buck. You really helped that girl today."

"Buck's knowledge of random facts coming through in a pinch," Eddie commented with a slight smile even as he headed for the stairs. "Come on. All that food talk got me hungry."

…

…

"And the Video Music Award for Best Choreography goes to," the presenter opened the envelope and smiled. "Caffeine High!"

Amid thousands of clapping hands, Evan approached the stage with his four group mates, their choreographer, and their manager. All Evan did was stand around smiling while the manager and choreographer gave speeches about how hard the members of Caffeine High worked and all the people who supported them that also deserved credit for the award. When they were done, everyone walked backstage as a group for photos.

"Stefan, step back a bit. You're too tall."

Evan stepped back, so he was in line with his groupmate Mark. They were three years apart in age, but Evan had hit his growth spurt early and was now the second tallest member of the band, with Mark being the eldest.

"Which of you is the best dancer?" one of the reporters in the back room asked.

One group member pointed at Evan, one at Mark, and three at Vincent, the heaviest set member of the group. Then they all started laughing at how quick they were with their picks. Camera flashes caught it all.

About a billion pictures later, with all of Caffeine High being serious or teasing, the group was finally able to make their way back to their seats.

"Wish we were performing," Josh, the only member as young as Evan, whined. He was also the only other member besides Evan to use a stage name: Harry Green.

They all agreed with him. Watching the performances was fun, but mostly they were just sitting there, bored and getting cricks in their necks.

"Next time, boys. You'll perform _and_ you'll win the award for best group," their manager insisted with so much confidence that they all believed it without a doubt.

…

…

From the second floor, Eddie watched Buck standing outside the open doors of the fire station. His chore for the day was cleaning the fire trucks alongside three other members of the one eighteen. Those other three people were soaping up, scrubbing, and rinsing down the truck like normal. Buck was doing all of that while dancing.

Well, he was doing the footwork and periodically making arm motions for some type of choreography. Probably the choreography that went with whatever music the others had put on outside to keep them entertained while they cleaned. Eddie couldn't hear the words of the music, but it had the beat and feel of teen pop music from the 00s.

Eddie grinned as Buck did a full three sixty spin before continuing to scrub down the truck. Buck was a teeny bopper back in the day. Who would've guessed, from the guy who didn't understand pop culture references.

"What's got you so smiley?" Hen asked as she came up beside him. "Oh."

Eddie motioned toward Buck. "I haven't seen him dance through chores before."

Hen snorted. "Then you need to pay more attention. Any time someone puts on music, Buck can't seem to keep from at least swaying his hips," and she played it up with a sway of her own hips. They both laughed. "Boy's got some rhythm."

Down below, the song had switched and Buck's choreography had devolved into that 'swaying hips' type dancing, rather than anything more complicated, but it was still nice to watch. Buck was all muscle—body builder style—but his dancing was smooth, practiced.

"Oh boy," Hen breathed out. "Look, the pining-from-afar thing might be fun for some, but not me."

"Huh?" Eddie tore his eyes away from Buck to throw a confused frown Hen's way.

She shook her head at him. "Get your head out of your butt and go make a move already."

With a sigh, like she didn't believe Eddie would do what she asked, Hen turned and walked away. And that sounded like a challenge. She didn't think Eddie would do it—that he couldn't go ask Buck out. He would show her.

Eddie's confidence lasted until he was standing face to face with Buck, still next to the truck. Then it shriveled up and died.

"Hey, Eddie," Buck greeted. "You wanna help scrub?" And he held out the washcloth in his hand with a teasing grin.

Eddie cleared his throat. Then did it again. Buck's teasing smile faded as he recognized Eddie's anxiety. He opened his mouth—no doubt to ask if everything was okay, but Eddie beat him to it.

"Didn't know you could move like that." At Buck's lifted eyebrow, Eddie motioned toward Buck's feet and hips. "The dancing."

A flush spread over Buck's cheeks and he scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah, I—," he pulled his hand back with a grimace, staring at his wet fingers briefly before dropping his hand to his side and focusing on Eddie. "My parents got me dance lessons when I was younger."

Nodding, Eddie stepped closer, until he was in Buck's personal space. Buck's blush deepened. "If you want, I could teach you some Mexican dances. Jarabe Tapatío?"

It was just the name of a dance Eddie had been taught growing up, but Buck's whole face went red and he couldn't get more than one syllable of a word out, as if Eddie had said something indecent. It was endearing, but he really needed to start teaching Buck Spanish. Eddie shook his head with a smile.

"My place? Tomorrow?" he suggested. "Chris'll be at Hen's for a sleepover."

Or he _would be_ , once Eddie talked to Hen again. This was her idea after all, so she had to help.

Buck nodded effusively. "Yeah, yeah. I mean, sure—that's—Yeah, tomorrow."

…

…

"Ha!" Josh clapped, pointing at the screen.

Evan and Vincent looked over from where they had been playing with the mini basketball set up in the room, and Mark and Angel stopped playing cards. On the TV was the latest Top 10 list for music. Caffeine High was number nine with "Someone to Hold Me Tonight." Angel let out a whoop, which Evan joined in on.

"That's our third one in a row!" Angel cheered, lifting a hand for Mark to high five.

Mark sighed. "Yeah, but we never get higher than number six."

Evan hurried over to slap his hand to Angel's, completing the high five. "Six is better than fifty. Or even eleven. I'll take it." Angel gave him a grateful smile.

Tossing the mini basketball up and catching it, tossing and catching it, Vincent said, "Making the Top Ten is great. It means people really like our music, right? That means something."

"It means we'll be forgotten by music history in about five years," Mark complained, leaning back in his chair so that only two legs touched the floor. "People only care about number one hits!"

Evan put his hands on the table before Mark and leaned over him. With a cheeky grin, he said, "Then we'll just have to make a number one hit, won't we, _Marky-Mark_?"

Even as the others let out positive calls of agreement, Mark was lunging up to grab Evan by his shaggy black hair. "I'm not _Marky-Mark_!"

And then they were wrestling on the ground, Evan laughing and Mark growling, and the others placing bets on who would win and how long until a manager showed up to stop them.

…

…

It wasn't often that Hen really let herself cut loose, but watching her belt out vocalizations on the stage of their favorite bar in karaoke was one of them. She was three drinks in and that was drunk enough to really let it all out. She was belting out notes with passion and clarity, if not technical skill. And every member of the one eighteen, plus Maddie and Athena, was cheering up a storm in her honor.

The background vocals in the music sang out 'Oh-Oh-Oh-Ooooh' as Hen half-sang, half-screamed, "I'm gonna send a flood, gonna _drown them out!_ " and then ended with a grand flourish and, "This is me!"

It wasn't the best rendition of "This is Me" that anyone had ever heard, but it wasn't terrible and Hen had been so into it that no one cared. The bar clapped loud and happy and Hen was glowing as she stepped off the stage so the next person could have a turn. Eddie, Chim, and Buck all took turns clapping Hen on the back as she reached their table and reclaimed her seat.

"Thank you, thank you," she said, as if accepting an award. "Now, which of you boys is gonna follow that, huh?"

She pointed at Bobby, who held his hands up in surrender, then Eddie, who looked like a deer in headlights, and finally Buck, who shook his head and took another sip of his beer.

"Cowards. Every one of you," Hen chastised.

"Speak for yourselves," Chim defended, already standing up. "I'm up next." He pointed to where the next person and song were written on a board on the other side of the stage.

_Chimney – Someone to Hold Me Tonight. Caffeine High._

Buck choked on his beer and both Maddie and Eddie started hitting his back to help him get it out. Eddie left his hand on Buck's back even after the coughing ended. Since their 'dance lessons,' Eddie had been a lot more tactile, mostly because he knew how much Buck liked it.

"Isn't that a song by that boyband from two thousand nine or something?" Bobby asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Chimney nodded. "Indeed it is. The cream of boyband-ery." He pointed toward Maddie. "But someone owns every one of their albums, and you don't stop wooing a lady just cause you're already dating them. Am I right?" Then with a wink, he headed for the stage.

All eyes jumped between Maddie and Chimney.

"Aren't you a little old to have been a pre-teen Caffeine High fan?" Athena asked. "That was what, ten years ago?"

"Eleven in March." Attention snapped to Buck, who wouldn't meet their eyes. "What? Caffeine High broke up right before I graduated high school."

Sometimes they forgot how young Buck was. By the time Caffeine High broke up, Eddie was already serving his first tour in Afghanistan, Hen was working for a pharmaceutical company, Chimney had just become a firefighter after Kevin's bar burned down, and Bobby was being cleared from rehab.

"Hey, I liked Caffeine High," Hen admitted, with a beatific smile at the Buckley siblings. "Sure it was kiddy, but they had a lot of bops and it made you wanna dance. I own a few of their CDs too."

Buck dropped his face in his hands and Maddie had to cover her mouth to hide her laughing smile. "Thank you, Hen," she managed between her fingers. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and she reached out with her free hand to pat Buck on the head.

Eddie pulled one of Buck's hands away to entwine their fingers. Buck didn't protest, he just squeezed Eddie's hand and futilely tried to hide behind his remaining fingers.

At that moment, the previous song ended and Chimney was climbing the stage to start singing.

"I just don't understand," he crooned, "Can't help the way I feel."

Instantly, he had Maddie's full attention. She smiled at him like he hung the stars in the sky and he stared directly at her the entire time he was singing. Buck shook his head and turned to share a look with Eddie at how dopey his sister and their coworker were being. Everyone else at the table knew Buck would be just as dopey if Eddie ever sang a love song to him, or vice versa. Since they officially got together, they were fine on a call but _insufferable_ otherwise.

"Chim is pretty good," Bobby noted with surprise. It wasn't often that he came out with them, always citing being too old or too tired after work, so he had never seen them do karaoke before.

"Yeah he is!" Hen cheered, hooting for her friend.

Athena lightly whacked Hen's arm for being silly, then turned her attention on Buck and Eddie. "Why don't you two sing?"

Eddie shook his head. "No thanks. I can dance, but I can't hold a tune worth a damn." He nudged Buck's shoulder with his own and smiled at him. "Buck's really good though."

Buck ducked his head at having the attention all on him again. "Lullabies for Chris and singing on stage are very different things."

By the look Eddie was giving him, he wanted to call Buck's bullshit, but he didn't. Instead he took a long drag of his beer and turned back to the stage to watch as Chimney continued his love ballad to Maddie.

"You've heard it all before, but listen to your heart. Give me all you've got and more."

Buck lowered his forehead to lie on his arm on the tabletop. "This is so embarrassing."

Hen whacked him. "Shut up, he's good!"

No one heard him mumble, "So not what I meant."

…

…

When Evan's parents first started taking him to auditions, they decided that he was too young to really be 'in the spotlight.' That didn't mean they didn't want him to be a celebrity, but that they wanted him to have his celebrity life separate from his home life. If he blew it, or if he hit it mega big, they wanted him to have his 'normal' life to fall back on.

"Why Stefan Everhart?" Evan asked when he saw the name they had decided on.

His mom didn't look up from where she was filling out the latest audition paperwork. "Our family has German roots on both sides, and it's a German name."

"It's also the German form of 'Steve' and you're as blonde as Steve Rogers," his dad added.

Evan reached up to tug at his black hair. "But you dyed my hair."

"If we left you blond and named you Steve, everyone would think it was a fake name."

Except they were naming his 'Stefan,' not 'Steve.' "Do I need to have a German accent?"

His mom rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly. You were of German heritage before this and you don't have an accent. Why have one now?"

Evan still thought it was ridiculous. He thought it was ridiculous up until he met Josh Harper. Except they were introduced to him as Harry Green. It wasn't until they were all officially signed as part of Caffeine High that Josh and Evan's real names came out to the other members. Josh and Evan shared an understanding look.

"Your parents too?" Evan asked.

Josh nodded with a grimace. "They treat me like such a baby. Angel's only fifteen and _he_ doesn't have a fake name."

After Caffeine High disbanded, before Evan left home and started going by 'Buck,' he would be glad for the normalcy his false name allowed him to have.

…

…

"You lying son of a bitch!"

Unable to get around Hen to attack her husband, the woman chucked her shoe across the room. The one eighteen had only just managed to get him out of the closet he'd been trapped in after his wife broke the key off in the lock. Buck managed to knock the shoe wide before it could hit the man, but he flinched anyway.

"Ma'am," Bobby said reasonably. "There's a police officer outside if you want to press charges against him, but violence will only make you into the aggressor, rather than a victim."

She kept shouting and screaming even as Hen and Chim checked the husband out and gave him a clean bill of health. Then the cops took over the case from there.

When they were back in the truck and on their way back to the station, Eddie shook his head, a deep frown on his face. "I don't understand how someone could do that."

"Attack their cheating husband, scaring them into a closet, and then locking them inside?" Hen asked.

Eddie shook his head again, this time in the negative rather than bafflement. "No. Have two names. Live two lives." He glanced around the truck to each of his teammates and then settled on Buck beside him.

The wife had found out that her husband was cheating on her, yes, but it was worse than that. Her husband had a different wife, house, kids, even _name_. He was living life as two completely separate people in order to maintain the façade. It was the worst.

Hen snapped her fingers, though the sound didn't travel through their headsets like their voices did. "You guys remember Caffeine High?"

Eddie and Hen looked to Chim, and Buck did too after a moment. With a grin, Chim said, "I rocked that song." They all shook their heads at his cheek.

"Anyway," Hen said with a roll of her eyes. "I saw an article recently about how Harry Green, one of the guys in the band? That wasn't his real name. His real name was Josh Harper." She lifted her eyebrows as if to say 'see?' "No one's heard from Harry Green since the band split, but Josh Harper sells real estate now. Makes good money at it too."

Chim put on a Serious Thinking face. "Do you think they all used fake names?"

Eddie shrugged, expression open to the idea, but Hen looked dubious. "Josh was one of the younger members. Made some kind of sense he had a stage name. It probably let him lead a normal life away from the band, instead of all the crazy that comes with being famous."

"Yeah, and people use pseudonyms all the time," Buck broke in. He tilted sideways just enough to press his shoulder against Eddie's. "Like, authors who write kids' books and books for adults."

"You mean their porn?" Chim corrected with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Hen elbowed him hard enough to make him grunt. "Sometimes you're disgusting, Chim."

…

…

Kneeling down by the edge of the stage, Evan peeked out at the crowd. It wasn't Madison Square Garden or the Superdome, but the size of the crowd was still mind blowing for a seventeen-year-old. Three years of this and Evan still couldn't believe how popular they were, how much _more_ popular they kept getting.

The stage lights weren't fully on yet, just a few pointing down so stagehands could see what they were doing without falling off the edge, so Evan could see the audience better than he would during the actual show. Throughout the sea of people were countless signs.

_We <3 Caffeine High_

_I Need a Caffeine Drip_

_Stefan Everhart is Ever in My Heart_

_Boisfontaine is My Fountain_

_Caffeine Addiction_

There were signs that were angel wings surrounding a heart, or showing giant green hearts with 'Harry' written over top. In fact, most of the signs had hearts on them somewhere, though some had cups of coffee to indicate caffeine. One sign even had a cup of coffee circled with a line through it, and then a picture of the band circled with a check mark next to it. The art skill of some of their fans was beyond belief.

Someone grabbed the back of Evan's shirt and tugged him back from the edge of the stage. "If they see you and start losing their minds, I swear to God," Angel muttered, rubbing his temple with the hand not holding Evan.

Frowning, Evan asked, "You take something yet?"

Angel had started suffering from intermittent migraines last year. With proper hydration and medication, he was usually fine. But if he ignored the warning signs and let a migraine take hold? They would need to get him to a hospital or it wouldn't stop.

Luckily, Angel nodded. "Thank you for worrying about me."

Evan turned, dislodging Angel's hand, to give his bandmate a hug. "Course. You're my friend."

Angel laughed. He hugged Evan back for about three seconds and then pushed him off, still grinning. "If we're friends, can I have a few of your fans?" he teased. "I'd like to see a few more angel wings out there."

Now it was Evan's turn to laugh. He punched Angel in the arm—not hard enough to hurt. "I thought I was the only one peeking, huh?" Angel shrugged, put his hands behind his head, and started wandering off to find their bandmates.

…

…

"Happy birthday!"

Buck jumped, the front door jerking shut behind him. Spreading out from Eddie's dining room into the living room were most of the one eighteen. At least three of them had phones out to catch his jump, because they were jerks.

With a shake of his head and a wide smile, Buck asked, "Don't we have a bad track record with surprise parties?"

"Yeah, let's not jinx ourselves, okay?" Eddie said, coming over to place a peck on Buck's cheek and then lead him into the crowd.

The cake on the kitchen island didn't have words on it, just a giant "29!" It was chocolate with buttercream frosting, aka, the best cake. Someone had also put twenty-nine candles all over the cake. When Buck managed to get all twenty-nine with one long breath, Chim said, "Well, now we know for sure you can blow." Everyone groaned, Buck winked at Eddie, and Eddie's face went beet red.

There were gifts too—like a new professional grade blender for when Buck made his 'weird health food stuff' and a gift card for helloFresh and a new chain for his bike that snapped last month and flat out cash—and finger foods so that no one went hungry or got a sugar high from only eating cake. In a lot of ways, it was just like a regular team hangout with everyone standing around and chatting, music playing over the speakers, nothing serious—except that people kept coming up to hand Buck their gifts or say 'happy birthday' again or ask him "What's it like to think you're almost thirty?"

As the party wound down with the fading of the sun, Buck was approached by his favorite person—Christopher Diaz.

"This is for you," he said, holding out an envelope.

It was just like Christopher to have a card for every occasion. Buck was already smiling before he'd even gotten the envelope all the way open. The front of the card was a hand-drawn picture of a firefighter with a pink mark over his left eye.

"That's me?" Buck asked with excitement, pointing. At Christopher's nod, Buck heaped praise. "Oh man, that's amazing. You're such a great artist!"

"You have to read what's inside," Christopher reminded him.

Eddie put a fist to his mouth to keep from laughing as Buck nodded with a, "Right. Of course," appropriately admonished, and opened the card.

" _Happy Birthday to My Hero"_ was written on one side of the card in rainbow letters, and the other side had the biggest, wonkiest heart the paper allowed for. Buck pressed his lips together, feeling the tell-tale heat of tears behind his eyes.

"You don't like it?" Christopher asked quietly, his head dipping down.

Buck shook his head, quick to wrap Christopher up in a tight hug. "I love it, Buddy. It's the best heart I've ever seen."

Christopher wrapped his arms around Buck as best he could. "Happy birthday, Bucky."

"Thank you, Christopher." He pulled back and beamed at the nine-year-old. "It's my favorite card you've made yet."

That got a smile from Christopher that was so bright it put the sun to shame.

…

…

"It's a No and that's final, Evan," Mr. Buckley said firmly, barely glancing up from his computer.

Evan glared, clenched his fists. "Why not?" he shouted. He smacked one of his hands into his chest. "I'm nineteen. I should have my own car!"

Mr. Buckley shook his head. "What if someone recognizes you? Do you want people camped out in front of our house because they recognize your car?"

Evan groaned, turning in a circle and trying his hardest not to pull his own hair out. He was nineteen. Caffeine High was broken up! Sure, that didn't mean he was instantly unrecognizable, but his hair was already growing back out blond and the entertainment news had stopped talking about their split three months ago. Evan had graduated _high school_. He should be allowed to own a goddamn car!

Facing his father again, Evan did his best to take deep breaths and keep an even voice, knowing shouting would only play into his father's hands. "I'll get something really boring, something tons of people already have. But I'm an adult, and I'm not in a band anymore. I should be able to drive myself around places. How am I going to get a job if I don't have a car?"

Finally, his father looked at him, though his expression said he thought Evan was being particularly stupid. "A job? Evan, you already have a job. You're a musician." He waved toward the hallway where Evan's room was. "Learn an instrument. Write your own songs. You can go solo, just like Angel did."

Except Evan didn't want to go solo. The stress of being famous was hard enough. Without the guys backing him up? Without Josh and his jokes, or Angel and their mutual love of the Terminator, or Vincent and his impromptu dance battles, or Mark to talk shit to people they all wanted to talk shit to but were too afraid of to follow through? He didn't want it.

"I want a car."

Mr. Buckley rolled his eyes. "You don't even have any money to buy a car _with_ , Evan, so this conversation is pointless."

"I have tons of money," Evan countered, pointing off in a random direction with force. "The band earned millions, and so did I!"

A nod. "That you did. But your mother and I thought it best to put it in a high interest locked account. We can add more money to it, but no one can pull money out until you turn twenty-four. Locked for ten years." He smiled at his son. "Imagine how much you'll have by then. You'll never have to worry about money, Evan."

"I don't care about money!" Evan shouted, his emotions getting the best of him, before turning and stomping off to his room.

He locked the door and ignored his father when he came to lecture Evan about his attitude shortly after, ignored his mom when she came to tell him dinner was ready, even ignored his sister when she called on the phone.

He had attended so many auditions he'd lost count. He had been part of Caffeine High and been a superstar for five years. Everyone thought he had the world at his feet, but he couldn't even leave his own house without his parents or a professional driver. Evan had never craved fame and fortune. It was fun and he liked it, and he liked the people he got to experience it with, the fans he got to meet, the places he got to go. It was a rush, but it was over. The others might want to continue on as solo artists, like Mark and Angel, but that wasn't Buck.

The more he realized how trapped he was by his parent's hopes and dreams and desires…the more he just wanted _out_.

Five years later, one week after his twenty-fourth birthday, Buck moved every cent of his money from the high-interest account into a new account where only he had access. Then he packed his bags and boarded a plane bound for Colombia, so far away even his parents couldn't reach him.

…

…

Christopher's tenth birthday party was a lot more… _loud_ than Buck's twenty-ninth. There was pizza and cake and Christopher blowing out the candles and presents, just like at Buck's, but ten-year-olds were a lot more rambunctious than the adults at the one eighteen. They talked with overly loud voices and everyone wanted Chris to open their gift first, like it most.

The party was also held at a park, rather than at Eddie's house. More room for running around and playing, and their voices didn't sound as loud outside as they would have inside.

It was always nice to see Chris playing with kids his own age, seeing how they accommodated his crutches and limitations but never left him out. They let him be a kid, just like any other kid, and Eddie would always be unbelievably grateful for it.

After the presents had been given out and the cake eaten, the kids started to play Red Light, Green Light, and Hide-and-Seek, and a bunch of games Eddie didn't know just by watching them. A few of the parents were wandering about, keeping the kids in sight and ready in case someone got hurt. Eddie and a few others were sitting at the various picnic tables they had rented for the party.

Beside him, Buck suddenly went, 'oh' and reached into his jacket. From within, he pulled an envelope and handed it to Eddie. "I almost forgot. This is for Chris."

Eyebrows furrowing, Eddie flipped the envelope over. Blank on all sides. "Didn't you get him that mega lego set? And why give it to me?"

Buck shrugged. "It's not really a kid thing." Eddie shot him a scandalized look and Buck threw his hands up. "Not what I meant. It's—It's a bank account."

Eddie was so thrown and confused by that statement that he actually jerked in his seat. "A…bank account?"

A nod. "Yeah. It's—Well he can't withdraw the money for ten years, when he's twenty?" Buck drew nonsense into the paper tablecloth covering the picnic table and wouldn't meet Eddie's eyes. "It has a ridiculously high interest rate, so by the time he can access it, he'll have a ton of money to work with. For, you know…college…or whatever."

It was a miracle Eddie wasn't on the ground. Buck had opened a savings account for Christopher? Eddie turned the envelope over in his hands again. Still blank, but now he knew it held a lot more than a piece of paper.

"Buck—It's too much," Eddie said, holding the envelope back out to Buck.

Buck shook his head. "It's not," he insisted, pushing the envelope away. His face and voice were completely serious when he said, "My parents made me one of these when I was fourteen, okay? The money I put in Christopher's? It's just some of that. It's money that's been sitting around collecting dust, doing no one any good." He shrugged. "It's better for Chris to have it. I—I _want him_ to have it." His face screwed up as he struggled to express himself properly. "I want—Whatever Chris wants, or—or needs. This money? When he's an adult? It'll let him do that. Please. Let me do this for him, Eddie."

Buck's gaze was pleading and earnest and Eddie's heart felt too big for his chest.

Since the day Buck met Christopher, he had been doing things for him. Introducing Eddie to Carla. The skateboard rig. Trips to the beach and the pier and the movie theater. Babysitting when Eddie picked up a shift on their days off. Heck, just coming over and spending time with Chris, letting him know that there was an adult other than his dad who was there for him, who loved him, no matter what. And now Buck was trying to ensure Christopher's financial stability as an adult. Eddie didn't know how much money was in the account and, honestly, he didn't want to know. He would likely never open the envelope to find out until Christopher opened it on his twentieth birthday.

But it didn't matter. It didn't matter how much or how little money Buck had given Chris. It was the non-material things that Buck gave every day that had the words slipping past Eddie's lips.

"I love you."

It was the first time either of them had said it aloud. They had said it before—in touches, in actions, in praise, in time spent together, in a million ways that were not those three words—but not like that. Buck's eyes widened, even his pupils dilated a bit, and then a smile spread across his face like warm honey.

"I love you too, Eddie."

…

…

'Backstage' at a show was a sprawling area including everything that made a show conclude successfully. Light rigs, sound systems, microphones and replacement microphones and replacement replacement microphones, a dozen outfits and backup outfits just in case, and all the stagehands and makeup artists and producers and workers that made the world of music concerts function.

'Backstage' for fan meetings was a room or area just off the side of all the wild pre-show prep work, where Caffeine High could greet fans, take pictures, and sign autographs. For that particular show, the music company had sold one hundred backstage pass tickets. So after sound check, but before the actual concert began, the five members of Caffeine High stood against one wall of a room while various adults paraded fan after fan before them long enough to get their autographs, a picture, and maybe hand one of the boys a present. The gifts were handed off to staff to put in the tour bus, to be taken back to the main office, where the boys could pick up any they actually wanted to keep and donate the rest.

Meeting their fans was great, but Evan wished he had time for more than a, "Hey there. What's your name? Oh, thank you!" The band manager had explained the time constraints and safety issues of being in prolonged contact with fans before, a dozen times, but that didn't mean Evan had to like it. These people paid a _lot_ of money to come backstage. They deserved more.

From the rush of the pre-show preparations, the backstage meet and greets, and the concert itself, Caffeine High didn't have time to stop and breathe until they were back on the bus and headed for a hotel for the night.

As soon as the doors of the bus slid shut, Josh dropped into a chair and fell asleep. Evan had always envied Josh's ability to fall asleep anywhere and in the blink of an eye. He hadn't even taken up a full couch, just a chair. Evan and Angel took up the two-seater couch and leaned into either side, their legs tangling in the middle. Mark lounged on the longer couch while Vincent made for the fridge to grab a snack, and then shoved Mark's legs out of the way to make room for himself on the couch too while he ate.

They all smelled like sweat, but there was an air of satisfaction around them. A concert well done. Thousands of screaming fans. No one fell down or messed up the choreography or forgot a line. Nothing broke. The lights shifted and things went boom right on cue. Every mic worked the first time.

Vincent reached out to grab one of the gifts they'd been handed during the meet-and-greet from the shelf behind the couch. It was a stuffed doll version of Mark, with a crown on his head because his last name was King.

"Another for the donation pile?" Vincent asked, wiggling the doll in Mark's direction.

Mark glanced at it for a moment and then shut his eyes again. "Duh."

Evan waved his hand weakly, tired. "I don't know how you do that," he said. "Someone handmade that for you."

"It's cute," Angel agreed.

Mark frowned but didn't open his eyes. "Exactly. I'm nineteen already. I shouldn't be 'cute.' I want to be…manly."

The three others awake chuckled at him. There was no way a stuffed toy could look manly. Also, Mark might be in excellent shape from all their dancing and performing, but he wasn't buff or overly tall, and his face was too soft. His grumbly personality was the most 'manly' thing about him.

Vincent shook his head and put the doll back on the shelf. His eyes ran over everything stuffed onto the bus with them as he ate the cheese stick in his hand. "What _I_ want to know," he started, gesturing vaguely at the stuff. "Is how our youngest, _least_ manly member gets the most stuff."

He and Angel both turned overly wide, expectant eyes on Evan, who flushed under the attention. He shrugged. "I don't know. They think I'm cute?"

From his place lying on the other couch, Mark shifted around, searching for a more comfortable position, and said, "It's the makeup." He crossed his arms on his chest and rolled onto his side facing the back of the couch. "They cover up that big birthmark and make him look cuter."

Vincent grabbed a couch pillow and whacked Mark on the butt, to his consternation. "Jealousy isn't a good color on you, Marky-Mark."

Later, standing in the hotel bathroom, Evan washed off the cover-up that hid any acne or discoloration on his face—including the bright pink marks above his left eye. He stared at himself in the mirror and ran his fingers over the marks. To his fingers, his skin was smooth and flawless, but his eyes could see the imperfection.

…

…

The call was for a cat in a tree.

"I love these kinds of calls," Buck gushed as the truck made its way toward the given address. "I mean, they're low on the list for badassery, but how stereotypically firefighter is it to save a _cat_ from a _tree_?"

The others rolled their eyes, but their fondness and amusement at Buck's antics showed in the smiles on their faces.

On the actual call, Eddie manned the ladder controls while Chimney rode it up to where the cat was curled up and mewling on a branch. That meant Hen and Buck got to stand around under the tree in case the cat, or Chim, fell down.

The cat's owners stood off to the side with Bobby, their eyes on Chim and Hades—the cat—but the ladder truck had brought others out for the show, so there were a dozen other bystanders meandering about as well.

Buck had his eyes turned up to the tree when someone tapped him on the arm. It was a woman in her twenties with a confident smile but shy posture.

"When you're done with your shift, would you want to come over for dinner or something?" she asked.

A small laugh slipped out, more taken aback than anything. "Uh, thanks," Buck said. "But I'm already seeing someone."

Her face turned pink with embarrassment and she fled back to her house. Buck had hardly turned his attention back to Chim—who had just reached the cat and was now attempting to grab it while the frightened animal was _not having it_ —when someone else grabbed his attention.

This time it was an older couple. They handed him a Tupperware of cookies—and while that was super cliché, Buck was completely for it when it involved cookies—and thanked him for his hard work as a first responder.

About the time Chim was dismounting the ladder truck with the cat, another young woman approached Buck. "Hey, hot stuff. Can I get your number?"

Buck pressed his lips together so as not to laugh again. "No. Thank you, but no. I'm pretty sure my boyfriend wouldn't appreciate that."

"Damn," she cursed. "Why are all the hot ones gay?"

He didn't bother to correct her assumption of his sexuality. Instead, he assured her, "You'll find someone. Trust me."

And then, once Hades was back with his owners and just as the team was boarding the ladder truck to head back, a guy who might have been eighteen or nineteen hurried over. There were two other teens a little distance away waving him on.

"Um. You're really—You're really hot," the kid said.

Buck gave the guy as soft a smile as he could, knowing it must have taken a lot for him to do this. "Thanks."

Eyes wide and body still tense from working up the gumption to approach the hot firefighter, the guy gave a jerky nod and then retreated back to where his friends—siblings?—were waiting. Buck shook his head, still wearing a fond smile, and pulled himself up into the truck. He handed the container of cookies to Eddie as he took a seat.

"A gift from our adoring fans," he announced, pulling on his headset just as the truck roared to life around them.

" _Your_ adoring fans," Hen corrected, though she wasn't upset about it.

Chim was. "Hey," he started. "Why does Buck always get all the girls—"

"And guys," Bobby corrected from the front.

"—even when I'm the one doing the heroics?" He huffed. "I was in the sexy fireman calendar. This is blatant disrespect."

Buck lowered his gaze to the floor, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks and flustered smile on his face. He didn't always get people hitting on him at jobs. Just sometimes. And even if he did, he tended to pretend he didn't notice. That wasn't why he was a firefighter. Not anymore, anyway. Besides, Buck might have a bit of muscle from working out, and he was pretty proud of his body fat percentage, but people were just attracted to the uniform. Not to him.

"It's the birthmark."

All attention shifted to Eddie, who only had eyes for Buck. When their gazes locked, he gave a wink and a grin that showed his canines. Buck's face felt hot again, but it definitely wasn't embarrassment this time. Now all he could think about was the way Eddie kissed his birthmark every time they did anything intimate enough to have them losing articles of clothing—even just a belt.

Hen snorted. "Oh yeah. The birthmark." She motioned to all of Buck. "Definitely."

Eddie wasn't swayed. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Buck breathed out. The warmth in Eddie's eyes and the memory of them together left him breathless in more ways than one. Damn did he love this man.

…

…

"So that's it?" Vincent asked, venom in his voice. "You're quitting?"

Mark shook his head. "I'm not quitting singing," he insisted.

"You're just quitting _us_ ," Josh threw back, hands clenching on the arms of the chair he was sitting in.

They had just finished filming on a talk show, about their plans for their next album and a recent fan meet-and-greet and how well they all got along. And now—this. They weren't even out of the show's studio yet, for crying out loud. Mark had the worst timing.

Instead of answering, Mark pulled out his phone and started tapping away at something. Angel made the chair he was in spin in circles while he let out a long, exaggerated, disappointed sigh.

"What the hell, Mark?" Evan snapped. His fingers twitched, the urge to snatch Mark's phone from his hands hard to resist. "All of a sudden—"

"It's not sudden," Mark interrupted. "I've been talking with Joan for weeks now."

Joan. Their manager. _Joan_ knew Mark wanted to break up the band? That felt as much like a betrayal as Mark leaving did.

As if he could feel the tense air in the room and it was distracting him, Mark let out a short, impatient sigh and stood up. His eyes drifted from Vincent to Angel to Josh to Evan as he spoke. "Look, this was fun. I enjoyed being a bandmate with you guys, really. But I'm twenty-two." He put his hands on his hips. "Caffeine High's image is cute, family-friendly fun. I'm over it. It's not cool to be cute anymore."

Just then, there was a knock at the door and then Joan leaned into view. She took note of the atmosphere immediately and the smile fell from her face. "What's—?"

Josh shoved himself out of his chair and brushed passed Joan in silence.

Angel sighed again. "Caffeine can only keep you high for so long, I guess," he noted. He too stood and left the room without another word, though his shoulders were drooped rather than stiff like Josh's had been.

That was enough for Joan to understand. Her expression was pinched. "You guys. Mark hasn't—"

"Mark has," Mark corrected. He shook his head. "You can't convince me to stay. My contract ended yesterday and I won't sign it again no matter what you say. Sorry if that ruins anyone's mood."

Ruined anyone's mood? Evan wanted to punch him. This would ruin careers, not to mention hurt their fans. Mark wanted to go solo? What the hell?

"You're so selfish," Evan spat before rushing to leave, despite Joan trying to stop him. If he stayed in the same room as Mark for another second, he was going to do something he would regret. Like break his nose.

…

…

"The show was going great, everyone was getting into it, and then suddenly he was gone. Right through the stage floor," the bar manager explained as he led the one eighteen through his establishment toward the stage.

There was a hole just off center stage, and what looked like musicians from the band were crowded around the hole looking down. The stage was tall enough that the singer, who had fallen, could have broken something upon impact, and the moaning the team could hear as they approached supported the theory.

"Sir, this is LAFD," Bobby introduced as the others moved his band away so they could work. "Can you tell me if you're injured anywhere?"

"My leg," the guy in the hole snapped. Bobby ignored the attitude. A lot of people got mean when they were hurt. "My arm's bleeding."

"Did you hit your head?" Bobby asked.

"No, I didn't hit my head. Goddamn. Just get me out of here," the singer demanded, pain lacing his angry tone. "Fucking embarrassing."

Bobby nodded and motioned to Eddie, who gingerly lowered himself into the hole, careful not to land on their patient. Buck passed down a back board and Eddie strapped the guy in, the singer complaining about how embarrassing being strapped to a board was and couldn't they just lift him out? Eddie explaining that they didn't want to aggravate his leg or any other possible injuries did not mollify him.

The end of the backboard came up and Buck, Bobby, and Chim worked together to lift the singer out of the hole and lay him on a more stable section of stage. Hen and Chim started checking him for concussion—despite his claim to have not hit his head—and other injuries. As soon as Chim stopped shining a light in his eyes, the singer turned his head away and spotted Buck pulling Eddie out of the hole.

"Holy shit. Evan?"

Buck frowned, turned to look at their victim, and went pale. "M-Mark?"

Mark tried to sit up, but he was still strapped to the backboard. Hen put a hand to his chest to stop him anyway. Her eyebrows furrowed briefly then lifted in surprise. "Oh my god. You're Mark King, aren't you?" When his attention was back on her, Hen motioned to herself. "I was a Caffeine High fan back in the day."

That didn't seem to make Mark overly excited. "Really? Cool." His head turned to look for Buck again. "A firefighter? I didn't know you had the muscle for that," he noted cruelly. "You were always such a twink when we were—"

"Yes. Thank you, Mark," Buck interrupted brusquely. "I've buffed up in the past ten years. It happens. Not all of us can be musicians."

Chim bandaged Mark's arm even as he watched the exchange with interest. His leg needed to be set but Hen hesitated, knowing it would interrupt whatever was going on between their youngest and this ex-super star.

"Clearly," Mark noted. "You know, I always thought you were kind of lame back then. You look less lame as a blond, though. Bet it gets you all the girl—ahhhhh!"

Hen ignored his screams and curses as she braced his newly set leg. "Oh, sorry," she apologized insincerely.

"Buck, Eddie, go get the gurney," Bobby instructed.

Only after they were gone did Bobby kneel down beside Mark on the backboard. "You should know," he started, his voice quiet but firm, and staring Mark directly in the eyes. "That insulting the people who are helping you makes them less willing to do so. So I'd suggest you treat my team—every single one of whom makes a difference in countless lives every day—with respect. Alright?"

Without waiting for a response, Bobby was up and heading out to the truck with Buck and Eddie.

"I don't know how you knew Buckaroo back in the day," Chim noted idly as he and Hen finished up field aid and waited for the others to return with the rolling gurney, "but he's definitely not 'lame.' He's a golden retriever, but he's a heck of a firefighter. Real great at this job." He looked down at Mark with an unimpressed stare. "Probably better than you are at yours if your chosen venue is any indication."

"Not to mention he's in a loving relationship and has a kid," Hen added. "Last I heard, Mr. King, you couldn't keep a girlfriend for more than a few months. Or did the magazines report that wrong?"

Mark huffed and refused to look at either of them.

Later, as Eddie and Buck climbed back into the ladder truck—Chim and Hen in the ambulance—Eddie brought up the one thing that had been bugging him since they left Mark.

"You're naturally blond, right?"

Buck squinted at him in confusion for a second. "Uh, yeah?"

Eddie waved ahead of the truck, where the ambulance was. "He seemed surprised. Did you dye it before?"

Running a hand through his hair as best he could with the headset on, Buck admitted, "Uh, yeah. Yeah for awhile I had black hair." He gave a nervous smile. "Everyone has their goth phase, right?"

Eddie nodded then waved for Buck to scoot closer. Only once they were shoulder to shoulder did he relax in his seat. Then his mind whirled.

Buck used to have black hair and knew Mark King, who talked like he and Buck used to be real familiar with each other. They hadn't seen each other in ten years, from what Buck said. A little over ten years ago, Mark King was the lead singer of the group Caffeine High, and if Eddie remembered it right from those pictures Hen had shown him, only two members of the group had black hair. One was Vincent Boisfontaine, but he had dark skin to match. That left Stefan Everhart. Pale, black hair, and bright blue eyes.

Eddie's eyes drifted sideways to look at Buck's profile. His birthmark was front and center from that angle. Stefan Everhart didn't have a birthmark like Buck did, and yet there was something…Eddie didn't know Caffeine High well enough to judge. He would have to do some research before he considered talking to Buck about it.

After they dropped Mark off at the hospital, Hen bemoaned the fact that Mark King turned out to be an asshole. "I always thought they'd all be really nice, you know?"

Chim shook his head. "That's why you should never meet your heroes."

Beside them, Buck rubbed the back of his neck and gave a faint laugh of agreement.

Eddie shrugged. "I don't know. Chris has called Buck his hero since the tsunami, and he lives up to the image."

The anxiety that had Buck's shoulders lifting evaporated and he let out a woosh of air as his shoulders dropped. He shot Eddie a grateful smile and Eddie bumped their shoulders together as if to remind Buck he had his back.

"That's different," Chim insisted. "Chris knew Buck before he became his hero. You can't compare the two."

That had the team debating the pros and cons of meeting people they looked up to, but Eddie hardly contributed. He was more interested in watching Buck.

…

…

"Any group. Come on." Evan poked Josh in the side, making him jump and squirm away. "I gotta leave in ten minutes. Pick quick."

"Why does it matter?" Josh asked.

Evan shrugged. "Doesn't. But Creed just got back together, and I wanna know."

Vincent shook his head, sitting backward in his chair. "Can't believe you like Creed." He smiled so Evan would know he didn't mean anything negative. "Though I guess you do fit the look."

True. Evan had black hair that dangled into his eyes and wore a lot of dark colors. But that was mostly the music company's image for him, not his chosen style. Shaking his head, Evan got back on topic.

"Come on, you guys. Focus. One band. Any band. Who would you kill to get a reunion of?" he asked, flitting from bandmate to bandmate going 'hm? hm?'

Finally, Angel took pity on him. "NSYNC." When the others just stared, he shrugged. "What? Chris plays Chip Skylark and I wanna see him perform live, okay?"

That earned him some laughs, and then Evan was looking at the others. "What about you?" he asked Mark.

"Queen," Vincent called from his seat by the door. He gave a dreamy sigh. "God I would love to see them in concert."

Mark frowned. "Kind of hard for a band to do a reunion when their lead singer is dead though."

"Yeah," Vincent said sadly, eyes on the carpet.

The air in the room was suddenly suffocating and Evan was not okay with that. He snapped his fingers to get everyone's attention. "Okay. We make a deal, right here, right now. None of us are allowed to die young."

Josh grinned. "We're not even broken up yet and this guy is planning our reunion." He waved a hand dismissively at Evan. "I refuse. I want no part of your reunion," he teased.

Evan pretended like Josh had shot him in the heart and collapsed to the floor in a dramatic heap.

"Hey! You said we weren't allowed to die, then you die first?" Angel accused. "That's some bullshit, Ev."

"I am Zombie Evan," Evan claimed from the floor. "I'm immortal now. Can't kill me again."

The others laughed at his antics. Mark shook his head, but he was smiling too. "A zombie in the band. Wait until the paps hear about that."

…

…

As soon as Chim got to work that morning, he made a beeline for Hen at the table upstairs and shoved his phone in her face.

"What the—Chimney!" she gasped, shoving him away.

Undeterred, he again shoved his phone under her nose. "Look look! Rumor is your favorite teeny bopper band is having a reunion."

Hen grabbed the phone and started scrolling through the article, causing Chim to laugh.

At the counter, Eddie looked up from his cup of coffee. "Who?"

"Caffeine High," Chim said.

"What about Caffeine High?" Buck asked, ascending the stairs and heading to Eddie for a hello kiss.

After they parted, Eddie said, "Chim says they're having a reunion."

Buck laughed. "Yeah, I don't think so."

His self-assured rebuttal made Chim draw himself up, defensive. "How would you know, Buckaroo? I just read it in the article myself." He waved toward his phone.

Hen absently smacked his arm, her eyes still on the phone, even as Eddie said, "I think Buck would know better than anyone."

Chim and Buck both looked at him, but Chim was the one who asked, "Why?"

"Because he's—" He froze momentarily, then finished smoothly, "Maddie's brother." He cleared his throat and bought a moment by sipping his coffee. Motioning elsewhere with his mug, he said, "She's a major fan, right?"

For a second, Chim considered that. He put a hand to his chin. "True." He shook his head. "But she doesn't read entertainment news so she wouldn't know."

"Neither do you, it seems," Hen said, still looking at the article. "This says Vincent Boisfontaine gave an interview where they asked him if there would be a reunion and he said he was up for anything. It's all speculation because he didn't flat out say no."

She finally lifted her eyes and handed the phone back to Chim.

"Buck's right on this one," she said, teasingly apologetic.

Chim wandered off to change into his uniform mumbling about ungrateful friends. With a shake of her head, Hen turned to smile at Buck and Eddie, to share a laugh at Chim's antics. Buck grinned in return and then shifted his attention to Eddie. His face in profile struck a chord with Hen.

She'd seen him sideways a lot though, so why suddenly did it feel like something was familiar and yet foreign about the angle? What had she been looking at recently that Buck was reminding her of?

Caffeine High. There had been pictures in the article. The article that had mentioned what Harry—Josh Harper, Angel Maldonado, Vincent Boisfointaine, and Mark King were up to, but which had said nothing about Stefan Everhart's current work.

Hen pulled her own phone out and searched up pictures of Stefan Everhart. There was no way. She repeated it a million times in her head as she scrolled through picture after picture of a black haired, blue eyed pretty boy with an incandescent smile. Hen looked up at the sound of Buck laughing to see him smiling one of his trademark beatific smiles that made her think of a golden retriever.

Like Stefan Everhart had made her think of a chocolate Labrador retriever.

"No way."

…

…

Evan had been part of Caffeine High for almost six months now and he was finally getting used to the punishing haste of his life. Voice lessons, dance lessons, practicing and recording with the other guys, making music videos, schoolwork, hang out time with the guys. His life was a rollercoaster going full speed ahead.

His parents had just walked him out of the studio where the band had been recording a music video. The rest of the guys had wanted to grab some food, maybe watch a movie together. Evan's schedule was too booked for that.

"Why can't I ever just hang out with the others?" Evan asked petulantly as the car drove away from the studio.

"You do hang out with them," his mother said.

Evan crossed his arms and slouched in his seat. "Yeah, when you pencil it in," he mumbled.

His father turned around in the passenger seat. "Don't mumble, Evan. It's childish and no one can hear you." He gave a little, semi-welcoming smile. "What did you say?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "Why can't I just do something on the fly? Why does every second of my life have to be scheduled?"

"That's part of being famous," his mom said, as if it were obvious.

Except none of the others had schedules like Evan did. They didn't have vocal trainings every other day, or dance lessons every day. They had free time, could make up plans on the spot just because they felt like it.

"I don't like it."

"Well, like it or not, this is the life you've chosen."

Except it wasn't. "No," Evan countered, his voice raising. " _You_ chose it. I just go where you tell me. All the time."

"We're your managers, Evan," his dad reminded him. By the smile on his face, he thought that was a good thing. "That's sort of our job."

"I'd rather you just be my parents," Evan grumbled, turning his head to look out the window, the world flying by as fast as his daily life.

Evan's mom tutted. "Just you wait," she said. "The others won't be nearly as famous as you one day, because their parents don't push them like we push you. It'll all be worth it in the end."

…

…

The banner taped to the wall read "Happy Birthday Eve!" Any member of the one eighteen with kids were gathered in Chim and Maddie's new apartment, as well as Albert, the Lees, and the Buckleys.

It wasn't that Buck was avoiding his parents. It was just that he happened to always be somewhere else when they entered a room. Buck had not seen his parents in person for six years, and only spoke to them on the phone when Maddie insisted. But this was his niece's first birthday. Buck wasn't going to mess it up because he was anxious about meeting his own parents.

Chris chatted and played with the other older kids, while Nia stayed with Karen and Hen. To avoid standing still long enough to get ambushed, Buck helped Chim and Maddie as a co-host, making sure snacks were refilled and offering drinks to people, and cleaning up.

One trip to the kitchen ended up with Buck within ear shot of his parents, Maddie, and Chim talking.

"-very nice. Much better than Doug."

"Mom," Maddie said sharply.

Mrs. Buckley lifted her hands. "What? It's a compliment," she insisted. "Doug had a lot of anger issues. I could tell. I'm honestly surprised you stayed with him as long as you did."

"Yeah, Chim's great," Buck broke in, dropping the snack platter on the counter and stepping over to stand at Maddie's side. "He makes Maddie really happy, and that's what matters."

Maddie put a hand on Buck's arm, grateful for the backup. They had never told their parents the full truth about Doug and neither of them planned to either.

Clearing his throat, Chim put an arm around Maddie's shoulder on the other side. Two guardians. "Yep, and hopefully I'll keep making her happy, and our little girl too."

All eyes turned to the highchair at the dining table, where baby Eve was situated with Bobby and Athena. So far it looked like she had Chim's skin tone and eyes, and Maddie's hair color, nose, and smile. Only time would tell if Eve would look more like her mom or her dad when she was older, but she was a really cute baby. Bobby lifted one of Eve's hands to wave toward them and smiled when it made her laugh.

"We're really proud of you, honey," Mr. Buckley said, turning his attention back to his daughter. "Married to a great guy. A great mom. And a 911 operator helping people every day," he listed, smiling.

"Thanks," Maddie accepted.

Buck let out a heavy breath. Proud. They hadn't been proud of him since Caffeine High broke up. The conversation wasn't about Doug anymore, and if Buck stuck around it was likely that someone would say something to start a fight, so he gave Maddie's hand a squeeze and then made to go retrieve the snack tray again.

"Buck helps people too," Maddie said in praise of her brother. "He's a great firefighter."

Mrs. Buckley gave a loud, disappointed sigh that caught Hen and Karen's attention from their seat on the nearby couch. "I get that, but I also find it hard to praise someone who ran away from home."

Buck flipped to face his parents again. "I was twenty-four," he retorted, trying to keep his voice down. Yet, like dousing rods for drama, most eyes were turning toward them anyway. "You can't run away from home at twenty-four."

Mr. Buckley huffed. "You emptied your bank account and disappeared in the night. I don't know another word for that other than running away."

"Fine," Buck admitted, throwing up his hands. "Yes. I ran away. You were driving me nuts. You kept trying to make me into someone I'm not—" He took a deep breath. "Look. Can we do this somewhere else? It's Eve's party."

His father ignored the suggestion. "You were a musician," he said. "All we asked was that you sit down and write a few songs."

"I didn't want to," Buck pressed. "I was done with that when I was nineteen. I wanted to do something else with my life."

"Like being a celebrity was so hard," his father said. "You loved hearing people scream your name—"

"Wasn't my name," Buck countered, but it was too quiet and his dad spoke over him.

"—and clearly it wasn't the dancing that you didn't like, because look at you. You're more fit now than you ever were in Caffeine—"

"Dad!" Maddie yelled, effectively gaining everyone's attention, even her daughter's. She gave a tense smile. "Now is not the time. Okay?" She left Chim's side to grab the snack tray Buck had abandoned and held it out to her parents. "Cheez-it?"

Across the now silent room, Hen leaned into Karen's space and whispered, "Oh my god, I knew it."

Karen elbowed her in the arm and hissed, "Shh, not now."

When ten full seconds passed without a Buckley accepting a cheez-it and no one else speaking, Athena rose from her seat beside Eve and began to cross the open layout toward them. "Excuse me. Alicia and Joseph, was it?" They nodded. "I just wanted to say something."

Buck resisted the urge to cover his face. This was about to become a huge incident, he just knew it. At his niece's first birthday party.

"When I first met your son, I saw that he was arrogant and cocky, and didn't like following rules. I wanted to arrest him more than once just for being so irritating." She put her hands on her hips and gave both Buckley parents her stink eye. "I think I finally understand why he was acting out so much, though."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Buckley jerked as if she had slapped them.

"Your boy?" Athena continued, motioning toward Buck. "He's got one of the biggest hearts I have ever come across. And he works hard. Sure, he's still cocky and sometimes he thinks the rules don't apply to him, but his heart is always in the right place. And you should be proud of him for that, not berating him for some future you _think_ he should have had."

Though Bobby stayed next to Eve, he lifted his voice to stand with his wife. "Buck is one of the best firefighters I've had the pleasure of working with. He's saved a lot of people over the years."

Mrs. Buckley regained herself. "Well, yes, I'm sure he is," she agreed, putting a placating smile on her face. "It's just that he was already so successful, and we put in a lot of work, and—"

"You realize he's a person, not an object, right?" Eddie came over and took Buck's hand, the action gentle, unlike his tone. "God, I'm glad he's better with kids than you obviously were."

Then he led Buck out the front door of the apartment and down the hall, until they were in the open air. They stood there, the sun shining down brightly, the sounds of traffic echoing from outside the gate of the complex, and just stared at each other.

Finally, Buck gave a weak smile. "Sorry about them."

Eddie frowned. "Are you seriously apologizing for your parents being shitty to you?" His voice was a low rumble, but Buck knew the anger wasn't directed at him. "What, because you didn't want to be a pop star?"

Buck rubbed the back of his neck. "You caught that, huh?"

"Honestly," Eddie started with a sheepish shrug, "I've thought you were since we rescued that guy from the hole in the stage and you said your hair used to be black."

Buck's jaw dropped open. He tried to speak, but it was like his brain and his mouth had disconnected. Eddie had known? Did anyone else know? "You—," he finally managed, reaching out to push on Eddie's shoulder. "You've been holding out on me!"

Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. "Really? If anyone's been 'holding out,' I think that'd be you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "What, my son gets personal concerts from a celebrity but I don't?" A scoff. "Unbelievable."

The laughter escaped Buck before he could stop it, and Eddie's expression brightened.

"Well, we all know who my favorite Diaz is," Buck reminded him.

That time, it was Eddie's jaw that dropped open, aghast. "I want a divorce."

Again Buck laughed. "We're not even married, doofus."

Eddie scrunched his face up, as if to say, 'well aren't you so smart?' and then closed the gap between them to press a kiss to Buck's lips. It was simple, one of the more chaste kisses they had shared, and yet Buck felt steadier when it was over.

"I want to get married," he breathed between their lips. Eddie jerked back and Buck frowned. "What?"

"That is not how you're proposing to me." He shook his head. "No. Come on." He grabbed Buck's hand and started back for the apartment building. "We're going back to the party, and you can use that time to think of a _proper_ proposal. What kind of—"

…

…

The papers were signed. It was official. Caffeine High was a registered musical group with five members. And Evan was part of it.

"Stefan, these are the other members of Caffeine High," Joan introduced as she led fourteen-year-old Evan into the meeting room. Four other kids were sitting around a table that could have sat twenty people easily. Joan pointed to each in turn as she said their names, and they each waved. "Angel Maldonado. Harry Green. Vincent Boisfontaine. And Mark King. Everyone, this is Stefan Everhart."

Mark, the tallest of the bunch and clearly the oldest, stood and crossed the few feet to the door, then held out his hand. "Hey. Great to meet you. Are you as excited as we are?"

Shaking his hand, Evan smiled brightly. "Definitely."

The answer pleased Mark, and Joan. Grinning, Mark squeezed Evan's hand before releasing it. "Awesome. Let's be famous!"

All five boys cheered in unison and Joan clapped her hands enthusiastically. These boys were going places. They had the passion to reach for the stars.

…

…

_Evan – Gravity. Caffeine High._

The tables holding the members of the one eighteen, plus Albert and Athena, hooted and hollered as Buck shyly took the stage and approached the mic.

"Can't believe he's actually doing it," Chim noted as the music started up. Buck put both hands on the mic and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Well, once he realized we all knew already, what's the point in hiding it, huh?" Hen said. "Go, Buckaroo!"

Buck shot her a smile just before the lyrics began. "You're unavoidable. Simply irresistible. And certainly you're kissable. But next to you I'm way too shy," he sang.

Chim dropped his chicken wing. Beside him, Albert took the opportunity to grab the fallen chicken and take a big bite himself.

"Buck is a very good singer," he noted around his food.

The music playing along with Buck's voice contained the harmony that would have come from a group singing the song together, but it wasn't the original by Caffeine High. The bar had an actual karaoke singing team on select nights, so the adult voices of the live band made the harmony in the recording. Which was great, because Buck really did sound amazing and having teens doing the harmony behind him would have sounded very strange.

On the stage, it was like Buck had forgotten there was an audience. Or rather, like he was standing before a much larger audience and with four other guys to back him up. He wasn't doing any intricate choreography, but he was swaying in place, and his eyes kept drifting shut as he focused on putting himself into the song.

"So I'll blame Gravity, for always holding out on me. When I just want to run away, it trips me and I fall for you." Buck opened his eyes, found Eddie, and winked.

Hen was practically vibrating in her seat. "Can't believe I get to hear a Caffeine High song sung in person by a member of the actual band," she said. "I never went to a concert cause I thought it'd be weird, me being older and all." She shrugged.

"I'm glad at least one of your heroes turned out to not be a dick," Eddie said, raising his beer as if in toast to the occasion.

Athena leaned her cheek on her palm, watching Buck sing. "Hard to imagine he just gave up being famous," she noted. Tilting her drink in his direction, she said, "He's really good."

"Well, fame isn't for everyone," Bobby said, wrapping an arm around his wife. "And I think we can all agree we're glad Buck decided to join our family instead, right?"

A round of agreement went up from everyone gathered. On the stage, Buck wasn't just singing, he was performing.

The more Buck got into the song, the more his stage presence grew, and the more the rest of the bar patrons around the stage got into it too. So much so that, when the music dropped out for the bridge, Buck was able to point to the audience and get them to sing with him.

"So why put the blame on me when I can put the blame on Gravity?"

The audience, including the one eighteen, cheered, clapped, hooted and hollered. On the stage, Buck was glowing, his smile radiant. He stepped back from the mic and took a bow, which only made the one eighteen clap louder.

Buck might not be a musical superstar anymore, but he still had it. He could still perform and control the room. As he rejoined their group, Buck received hair ruffles and pats on the back and shoulder touches from the whole group. And a quick peck from Eddie as he reclaimed his seat.

"Superstar of the one eighteen!" Hen crowed. "Next round's on me!"

…

…

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing style, check out my other fics and look me up on goodreads ([Jessica M. Dawn](https://www.goodreads.com/jessicamdawn)) for more.


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